


Dadvid Oneshots

by elsiepedee



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: One Shot, Other, just whatever ideas come to my mind, multiple one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 22:16:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsiepedee/pseuds/elsiepedee
Summary: Whatever prompts come to my mind in one location, served fresh on a Pretzel bun and delivered warm from our ovens.





	Dadvid Oneshots

You would take a look into the house, and think Max was living it up under the circumstances. Open space, open curtains, a warm feeling in the living room, all to himself without David trying to do some ‘adopted father-son bonding’. The smell of new paint, the sound of roller against wall, the joy of being alone and not having to overthink every little thing he did in the public eye. But there was one massive downside to this paradise that nearly made it unbearable.

David’s weird fetish for old music.

He would blare it from his speaker. Always near, echoing throughout the hallway like it was a predator’s footsteps running through a long alleyway. He could hear the rhythmic beat tapping away in his mind at night, and whenever he closed his eyes he could see that goddamn candle in the wind, and the horse with no name. The songs ticked away minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day like he was being tortured. David’s taste in music was ruining his life.

“You weren’t even alive in the fucking seventies, David!” Max snapped from his room, slamming his own headphones down. “Why do you like this shitty old music?”

Walking over from the hallway, David leaned into Max’s door frame and fidgeted with a roll of blue tape. “Everybody likes a little Fleetwood Mac. Their tunes are swell!” He playfully argued. “Besides, I only play it from time to time.”

“From time to time?” Max asked, struggling to push himself out of his spinny chair and land himself on the ground. “From time to time?! David, if you can name one song you’ve played in the past hour that isn’t from the 70s, I will clean my room from top to bottom so well that you will be able to see your reflection on the floor.”

“Wow, risky bet. You seem sure of yourself.” David said with a smirk, but Max pressed on with a hard angry stare. David stood there thinking for a minute, while Max slowly started to don a shit-eating grin.

“See! You can’t think of one, I knew it! Next thing I know you’re going to buy Elton John glasses off of Amazon and wear them 24/7!” He cheered, slightly relieved he didn’t have to go through with the offer.

“Oh, but Maxwell!” David said, with his signature Camp Campbell Counsellor Grin. The same grin made Max internally shudder. “Do you hear that?” David put a hand to his ear, and Max gave him a funny look. “It sounds like… What? Come on Eileen? But I thought that song came out in the 80s!” He gasped.

“What?! Bullshit, even if that was true, which it ISN’T, there’s no difference! They’re all old and weird!” Max fought.

“But Max, you said that I had to name one other song… And I did.” David said. He didn’t bother hiding his victory with a smile, they both knew this was major. The War Of The Bedroom had been fought for millennia, this could turn the tides in just one day.

“I don’t believe you. I’m looking it up.” Max said. He jumbled back to his desktop and searched the depths of Google, the date of the song coming up.

1987.

“Wow! Isn’t that something. I never knew Come On Eileen won a Brit award!” David snickered. Max was practically fuming.

“Whatever, whatever, whatever. You listen to a variety of old shitty songs, I get it. Your taste is as nonexistent as that beard you’re trying to grow out. It was fun, David, but you should really get back to painting before Gwen shows up!” Max said, practically shoving him out the door before he could say anything. David went willingly, smiling the entire time and never losing smug eye contact with Max.

“Are you a man of your word, or will I have to eat the half gallon of Superman ice cream I bought all by my lonesome?” David got in dramatically, just before Max slammed the door shut.

Shit. David had really learned how to persuade Max throughout the year. He sighed, flopping on the bed. He heard a pause in music, as David manually switched the song to current top hits.


End file.
